Sent on Behalf of Liz Magill and Beth A. Winkelstein, Interim Provost
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Sent on Behalf of Liz Magill and Beth A. Winkelstein, Interim Provost
There are seldom moments in life when people believe so enthusiastically in your future: high school graduation, an engagement announcement, maybe a new job offer. Despite their significance in Western society, these events can’t even compete with the levels of passion shown by the club representatives lining Locust Walk in the heat of August.
Most of the people in this world are ugly. They are sick and twisted, yearning for the destruction of all things good and simple. I like literally hate it here.
There are certain rites of passage that no freshman should be deprived of regardless of their criminal record, BMI, immigration status, age, medical history, etc. Among those we have becoming executor for one’s parents’ estate, fuzzily consensual intercourse, getting lit in Wawa on Market and 33rd, and, of course, being granted access to the wet market (see US Prohibition era doctrine to understand). The US gets pretty much everything right, but we are completely backwards and third world with respect to our drinking laws. How at the ripe age of 17 and 11/12ths am I considered a legally consenting adult and yet I can’t for the life of me or the homeless woman who refused to buy me alcohol at a 5% interest rate get my hands on any of that good good or that wet wet? I’m not even talking hard core. I’m talking poppers baby, booze man.
Do you struggle to connect with your peers? Do you struggle to hold space and say the right things on a solid, interpersonal dimension? Have you known a deep love and watched it die? Have you laughed and cried in the face of love? Do you just want to sport a cunty camouflage outfit? Consider taking a semester abroad and fighting on the frontlines of the idgaf war. Located in the trenches between idgafghansitan and ijbolivia, the US has ingrained its geopolitical tentacles into yet another niche conflict. Grenades are now avoidant attachment styles. Collecting intel on the enemy is “no worries if not.” You’re armed with a vast rotation of Lois Griffin reaction posts.
Late at night I sit at my computer, slaving away at a paper about little red schoolhouses–that didn’t actually exist—and their impacts on ethnic minorities (none) in the mid-1800s. My roommates' gentle snoring no longer soothes me the way that it did that one split second I thought she had died and the gentle “HAH SHOO” proved my worries unwarranted. No, now I can only think about the ads for sleep apnea medication that I watched ad nauseam as my apneic stepfather refused to switch the channel from CNN to Food Network because “debates were happening.” How I wish to be my roommate. She has the pleasure of having me as a roommate. How I wish to be keeping her awake with my whimpers, as she tries unsuccessfully to figure out where it all went wrong (Horace Mann.) But alas, I am still me, the great witness to apnea. My mind wanders to Passover circa 2012 when it was not Elijah who came through the door, but instead, a choked up Matzoh ball that, with many tears, wheezes, and gags, came hurling out through the doorway that is my mouth. In my delirious state, I see a light. Jehovah? Is that you?
Oh no! Are you injured? Experiencing intestinal discomfort? Alcohol Poisoning? One too many slices from Allegro’s?
As the common app deadline approaches, incoming students may be looking for a reason to choose Penn. Out of all the reasons to select a college to attend, the relative size of buildings and objects on campus is by far the most important to consider. For those who did not get to visit campus before making their decision, fear not! Here is a tour of Penn's campus, with coin for scale. I sincerely apologize for my lack of gel manicure, this photo essay was spontaneous, as best things in life usually are.
We've all been there. Your middle school class loads into a yellow bus and drives for hours through the exurbs. Then suddenly, a warehouse decked out in faux masonry with two towers emerges from the middle of the industrial park. It's Medieval Times, of course!
August 27th, 2022. NSO. Me and the loose collection of gentlemen I found in a Quad lounge enter Commons for the first time. The food smells delicious. We feel a profound thankfulness for the privilege of dining here for the next nine months. Taking our seats, we discuss our ratio for the evening. Is it better to go to a party with thirteen guys and zero girls or thirteen guys and one girl? At least you can pass off the first option as a guys’ night, right? The second is just an admission of complete and utter failure.
My friends say I am a “straight chiller," but this was perhaps the biggest test of my lifetime. I know the truth. It might be a hard pill to swallow...but I’m willing to. I know their motives. I know it all.
I hate to say it, but this preprofessional environment is really starting to get to me. I sit here scrolling through LinkedIn, looking at these suckers posting their corporate internships for biotech startups and some sort of finance thingy. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here skipping the John Smith Interlude of the new Lana Del Rey album because that’s the sort of priorities I have. Should I be trying something different?
An advice column about love, life, and rock n’ roll, run by two of the sveltest broads in all of Pennsylvania. To make you more comfortable in this space, we’d like to introduce ourselves. We are Maya Kreger and Carey Salvin, both self-declared role models and the least self-indulgent people you’ll ever meet. In the end, we’re just two girls hoping to spread goodwill with our life-changing and fully ideated ideas. We are here to answer your questions, no matter how outlandish or simplistic they might be. You're welcome! If you have any issues that require our assistance, fret not and submit your questions here.
According to a recent study by the Wharton Marketing department, frequent marijuana use can set you back from your bikini body. As a self-educated health and wellness guru, here are some methods to ensure you end the week with what looks like the beginning of a summer glow:
As a shy girl who consistently correlates her naive courteousness with having “southern charm,” I have mastered the art of avoiding catastrophe while remaining composed and kind. It is difficult to remain this way though in Philadelphia where the people move quickly and the vehicles move even quicker. Some may say the drivers are reckless but I say the pedestrian is equally complacent in crosswalk accidents. There is no reason to be aggressive when trying to communicate with impeding drivers. Here are some passive alternatives that are equally effective in preventing collisions:
Ugh. Just UGH!
Damn, it’s like really nice out. But the weather app says 50% chance of rain, low of 59 Celsius high 78 Celsius for tomorrow. What should I wear?
It was Monday, 8:26 AM. After two days and two nights and two full breakdowns, I finished my seventh complex analysis problem set of the semester. All that was left to do was reach the end of the mirror lined hallways of DRL and slip my tear crusted papers under my professor’s door before the 8:30 AM deadline.
Years after the folks over at Pew Research Center undertook their greatest task of the century, the team has released their findings. After nearly two decades of painstaking "vibe assessment," lead researcher Dr. John Crawford has declared Penn "the chillest spot in the naish" ("naish" short for nation, that is). The study cites many factors, focusing primarily on students' "lowkey energy" and the campus's "sneaky sesh spots." Penn students were reportedly elated by the news, but not too excited to the point where it was weird or lame.
I would have voted for Obama in 2008 if I was of age. And probably again in 2012. My former cousin is gay. I can tolerate sushi. I am a progressive. I am committed to diversity, through and through. They say that 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese. But if that’s true, why do I still have no ethnic friends?